


Dreams of Oceanus

by siderealOtaku



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Camping, Dreams, Fluff, M/M, waver being waver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siderealOtaku/pseuds/siderealOtaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One strange dream and one night in a cheap sleeping bag is all it takes to bring Waver and his Servant closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams of Oceanus

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [梦见无尽之海](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565480) by [Amaranth42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaranth42/pseuds/Amaranth42)



Waver dreamed of the ocean. 

Though he’d been to the seaside many times as a boy (though he’d spent most of these trips fully clothed, sitting on the sand with a heavy book in his lap) it was not these bland, unmemorable outings of which he dreamed. This ocean was none he’d ever seen—each wave was at least twelve feet tall, and the water was not steely gray but eye-achingly, impossibly blue. These mighty deeps could be nothing but Oceanus, the mythical sea which his Conqueror had died trying to reach. 

His heart ached with longing—whether his own or an echo of Iskander’s, he could not tell. He stretched his right hand towards those distant waves. For a moment, the limb seemed to shimmer, appearing sometimes as his own (pale, long-fingered, marked with the brilliant red of the Command Seal) and sometimes as the darker, rougher hand of his Servant. He stepped forward, eyes locked on Oceanus, never losing his footing despite the treacherous rocks over which he clambered. 

And then he did trip, and he was falling, head over heels toward the pounding surf below, and his mouth was open, and the spray was stinging his eyes, and the waves were getting louder, and he could not scream, and and and…

and he was awake, and the noise surrounding him was not crashing waves but Iskander’s heavy, slumbering breaths, and the stinging moisture gathering at the corner of his eyes was not sea spray but his own tears. 

He tried to catch his breath, but something prevented it. A heavy, weight lay across Waver’s chest and neck, completely cutting off his air supply. Panicking, he sat bolt upright…and the arm of the still-sleeping Conqueror slid off of his Master, landing with a crinkly crash on the leaf-coated forest floor. 

Waver blushed furiously as he realized what the weight had been. “Get up!” he hissed at Iskander. “What were you thinking, materializing like that in the middle of the night! You’ll never restore your mana if you keep doing that!” 

Iskander opened one bleary, sleep-clouded eye. “You looked cold,” he said simply before rolling over. Were it not for the fact that the Conqueror’s deep breaths had not resumed their sonorous regularity, Waver would have thought he had fallen asleep again. 

The young Master’s face heated up even more. “It’s not like I asked you to do something embarrassing like that!” he insisted. “Good thing we were in the middle of the forest and not at the Mackenzies’ house! Imagine what the old man would think if he saw that!” 

“Oh, he already thinks we’re together. He gave me the ‘if you hurt my grandson I will never let you into my house again’ talk the other day,” the great king responded nonchalantly. 

“W-What! I…We’re not….” 

“Aren’t we?” Iskander asked. “I’m pretty sure earlier tonight counts as being togeth…” 

“Are you talking about that? Because I’m pretty sure I told you not to talk about that. Do I need to use a Command Seal to make you stop talking about that?” 

“Calm down, boy,” Iskander muttered. “Go back to sleep.” 

Waver didn’t respond. He turned so that he was no longer facing Iskander and closed his eyes. But though his body was exhausted, both because of the steady drain of mana caused by his Servant and their…earlier actions, sleep eluded him. Ever stingy, he had bought the cheapest sleeping bag available, and, as a result, was chilled to the bone in under a minute. He shivered inside the bag, trying to stop his teeth from chattering. He didn’t want his Servant to hear and make fun of his fragility yet again. 

Finally, Waver turned over as quietly as possible, staring at Iskander’s broad back just a few feet away. His Servant seemed to be sleeping deeply. Maybe he could…

He tried to wriggle over to where the Conqueror lay, but unfortunately, the cheap nylon sleeping bag made a dry rustling sound with every movement. He had only managed to move a few inches when Iskander, no longer asleep, turned over. Waver froze mid-wriggle, prepared for some sort of biting remark…only to find himself instead pulled into the warm, protective circle of Iskander’s arms. 

He froze, not entirely sure what to make of the situation. Sure, they had…but that had been necessary, part of his duty as Rider’s Master…It didn’t mean…But Rider had said…

Finally: “Fine, we’re together,” Waver muttered from between clenched teeth, his blush intensifying. “But you can’t call me ‘Boy’ or ‘Kid’ anymore. If you’re going to be my boyfriend, you have to use my name. You understand?” 

“Sure thing, boy,” Iskander murmured, holding the small magus tighter and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Waver wanted to retort, but before he could think of anything clever, sleep had captured him for a second time. 

Again, Waver dreamed of the ocean. But this time, he was not alone on the rocky crag overlooking the endlessly crashing waves. And this time, his pale hand did not reach desperately towards distant Oceanus but remained at his side, held within the protective grasp of his beloved King.


End file.
